


Michael Leads

by farad



Category: Chaos - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some places where Michael doesn't lead - until the right momennt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Michael Leads

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Kayim's lovely "Billy Charms People" located here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/230580
> 
> Written for the fic_promptly prompt "s/he leads" (http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/70113.html?view=3597793&posted=1#cmt3597793)

The first time Michael took control, Billy almost missed it.

They were in his hotel room, as they usually were when such things happened, because Michael couldn't drop his guard anywhere but here, in this place that wasn't his, in this place that he could leave behind, in this place where it was only ever just the two of them.

It had been a bad mission, a hard one. Casey had been shot - not bad, but then Casey never got shot, rarely got hurt. The bullet graze to his thigh hadn't been deep but by the time they got out of Belize, he had lost enough blood to make him light-headed, bitchy, and generally in need of a night in the hospital - which pleased neither him nor Michael, who had insisted on staying until Casey himself had kicked them out.

They had stopped for drinks at a pub near the hospital, and Michael had been persuaded to have a second whiskey. Afterwards, Billy drove them to his hotel, then invited Michael up to have a nightcap. It hadn't taken nearly as much coaxing as he was used to.

Which was why he wasn't completely surprised when, as soon as he had closed the door behind them, Michael turned back to him and stepped right up against him. Right into his space. Right against his body.

Right into his mouth.

They had kissed before, but always quickly, as an afterthought or, to Billy's mind, as something Michael thought he should do but didn't necessarily want to do. Billy had never been sure if it was because of the taste or if Michael really was that tied up in issues of masculinity.

Now, he didn't have either concern; Michael's tongue was so far into Billy's mouth that he thought Michael might be trying to get to Billy's own taste, from the inside. But the feel of him, that long, lean body pressed close and hard against Billy's, the bruising pressure of Michael's desire grinding into Billy's hip, made him forget all else.

When the need to breathe drew them apart, Michael still clung to him, his fingers threaded into Billy's hair, his forehead burning against Billy's. "Let me," he whispered, "let me this time."

Billy's breath caught, his cock so hard that it was afraid it might break if Michael touched it. Or explode.

Then Michael slid down, his head resting against Billy's stomach as his fingers struggled with Billy's belt. This wasn't a skill for him, something he did - perhaps something he had never done.

There was a noise then, a long, slow, moan, and only as it faded did Billy realize he was the one making it.

He didn't have time to be embarrassed - his pants were pulled open and the fabric pushed aside. Then Michael's fingers wormed their way past the elastic of his boxers and touched his skin.

He moaned again, this time with such force that he felt his throat vibrate. He wasn't aware of reaching out, only of the softness of Michael's hair, the slight indentations in his skull like old scars, the heat of his breath as he moved in close.

Then the first tentative touch as Michael tasted.

Billy didn't mean to move, didn't mean to do anything, but he had fantasized about this for so long that he couldn't stay still. With only a passing awareness, he pulled, trying to draw Michael forward, to create more sensation.

The pain wasn't great but it was such a contrast to what he'd been feeling that it snapped him back from the brink of orgasm. He gasped, looking down to find his arms pinned against the door, Michael's flushed face and bright eyes staring up at him. Michael's lips were wet and swollen, shiny, and pulled down into a frown.

"Sorry," Billy said, or tried to; the word caught in his throat, his mind completely locked on the image of Michael Dorset, on his knees, looking like a debauched angel.

"Tell me what to do," Michael said, his voice grating sexily. "Tell me what you want that I can do."

"Let go of my arm," Billy said. "I won't do that again." He knew he would have to keep the promise, too, which he hoped he could.

The bone-bruising grip loosened and Billy drew one hand free. He stroked Michael's cheek, then cupped his strong jaw, letting his fingertips tease the soft skin under his chin. He didn't have to say the words; Michael was very smart and as Billy slowly guided him forward, his lips parted to take the spongy tip between them.

Billy knew he was not going to last long. He had to close his eyes to keep from coming, the eroticism of it as overwhelming as the wet heat.

Michael still held one of his wrists, but the grip was looser now, no longer painful. It was a reminder, though, and Billy concentrated, putting his own hand on Michael's shoulder. "Slowly," he said, "no need to rush. Take your time, get used to it - "

He sucked in a breath, losing his voice as Michael's mouth slid lower, past the flare and down along the shaft. Then his fingers brushed along the swell of Billy's balls, reaching back just a little in a manner that Billy knew well - it was the way he touched Michael.

"No," he cried out, "I'm going to - "

He didn't remember anything else, lost in the abyss of release, the image of Michael's lips pulled tight around his cock burned into his mind.

"You okay?" Michael's voice was warm and close, and Billy slowly came to himself, aware of the coolness of the door against his back and the warmth of Michael's body at his front. He blinked, opening his eyes then lifting his head from where it was resting on Michael's shoulder. His knees felt weak, as if they would give out at any minute.

"I've got you," Michael said, and Billy realized that Michael's arms were around his waist, holding him in place. As they often were, at least on the job.

But this time, Billy realized that his weight was doing something else, holding Michael in place. "We did well today," he murmured, nuzzling against Michael's neck. "We got through it."

Michael's arms tightened and he turned his head slightly, away from Billy.

Billy kissed his throat, feeling the flutter of his heart in the vein. He went on, refusing to give up. "We're not leaving you," he said quietly. "I'm not leaving you, Michael. Not as long as you want me."

Michael swallowed, his heart beating harder. "Better be careful about those promises," he said, trying to make light of it. But Billy heard the stutter, the difficulty he had getting it out. Michael shifted, turning so that he could guide Billy toward the bed.

Billy let him, but as he settled, he caught Michael's arm, not letting him go. "What can I do for you?" he said, letting gaze drift seductively over Michael's body to the prominent bulge in his tailored slacks.

But Michael tugged, drawing his hand free. "Think you offered me a drink, didn't you?"

Billy leaned back on the bed, ignoring the fact that his pants were open and he was on display. "You know where the bar is," he said, smiling. "I could stand one, too, while you're at it."

Michael's lips twitched, the suggestion of a grin. But his eyes were still dark with meaning as he stood still, looking at Billy.

Then Billy got it. The mere thought of it left him speechless, but only for a few seconds. "Pour yourself a double - hell, a triple. There's plenty of room here - if you don't mind sharing the bed."

The smile finally reached Michael's eyes. "I think we can manage, at least for tonight."

Billy could live with that, especially in the wake of what had just happened. "And I can return the favor," he said, watching Michael move across the room. He was as graceful as ever, as perfect as ever.

Michael opened the whiskey bottle with the ease of practice, measuring two generous portions into the hotel glasses. "Maybe later," he said, not looking at Billy. He sipped from one glass before turning with both of them and walking back to the bed.

Billy sat up, watching him. He knew he was smiling stupidly, knew he looked idiotic. But he didn't care. He could get used to Michael taking control. Very used to it.


End file.
